Trouble in a Big Box (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery)
Page 21
She dashed off toward the kitchen and returned quickly with paper towels, wet and dry. As Keisha began, sponging at my leg, which now really stung, José explained.
“Keisha got one of her feelings.”
Keisha looked up at me. “I just knew you were in trouble. I told José we had to hotfoot it to your house, but we did drop the girls off with Miss Cynthia first. Looks like we just made it.”
Stunned. Irrelevant thought: The girls aren’t freezing at the zoo. “What happened?” I pointed to John Henry who lay motionless and refusing to speak.
José nudged him with a boot. “I karate chopped his gun hand as he came out the door. Think I broke his wrist—least that’s what I wanted to do. Didn’t give him time to shoot, but his gun went off and the bullet grazed your leg. Sorry, but it’s better than the alternative.”
“Definitely,” I agreed, putting most of my weight on my right leg. Keisha had straightened up and announced I needed to go to an emergency clinic or doc-in-a-box or something.
“Not until Conroy gets here,” Mike said, “Kelly, you okay?”
I nodded. It hurt, but not that badly.
“I told you not to trust anybody, even when they talk nice,” Keisha said righteously.
“John Henry, what do you have to say?” I demanded. “Mexico, indeed.”
“You probably wouldn’t have ever come back,” he said, and that sent chills down my spine.
Of course, Conroy led the charge, but it looked like the entire homicide squad arrived to take John Henry downtown. Now he refused to say anything except, “I want a lawyer.”
“You are a lawyer,” Conroy said viciously, “not that it’s going to do you much good.”
The whole story came out slowly, thanks to Tom’s lengthy confession—now I almost felt sorry for him—and the few things John Henry said, after he got a lawyer. He denied killing either Sonny Adams or Tom Lattimore, and Conroy said he’d face charges of conspiracy to murder.
“Harder for the prosecution to build its case, but they can do it. They found Lattimore’s computer in John Henry’s plane.”
Thinking of the plane ride I almost took, I asked, “Where was it?”
“Private air strip south of town. Owner said he knew John Henry professionally, didn’t think anything of his request to park the plane there a few days ago and then today he got notice that Jackson’d be taking off. He figured John Henry would file a flight plan and play it according to the rules. We’re checkin’ it out but I think he’s in the clear. Sweating a bit, though. Said he always thought John Henry was most law abiding.”
“So did we all,” I said.
Epilogue
We never did find out where in Mexico John Henry planned to go, and I didn’t even want to think about it.
Keisha sent José off with Conroy, who would have demanded he come along to recount his version of the story, even if Keisha hadn’t insisted. Then she took Mike and me to the emergency room at JPS since she declared neither of us could drive. A strip mall clinic would have done just fine, but we figured the personnel at the county hospital knew Mike and we’d get in and out.
We did. The graze on my leg was sterilized and dressed, and I was given supplies for dressing it at home.
“We’ve got to go to the girls. They’ll be scared to death, and so will Mom.”
So we went to Mom’s house, where indeed we were greeted by two wailing girls and a mom who was wringing her hands in despair. I assured them I was all right, Mike was all right, and it hadn’t been a big deal.
“Well, I declare, if it wasn’t a big deal, Keisha don’t you ever scare me like that again. Dropping off these girls as if the devil himself was chasing you!”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Cynthia. I’m sorry for having worried you.” Keisha could play quiet and contrite every bit as well as she did bold and brassy.
The girls hovered over me, examined my leg, and asked how I hurt it. Since I vowed never to lie to them, I said, “A bullet grazed it.”
“God in Heaven,” Mom cried, raising her arms to the heavens above. “What has my child gotten herself into?” She glared at Mike, as though blaming him for involving me in police matters.
He spread his hands in that age-old “I don’t know” gesture and said, “Don’t blame me, Nana. She gets herself into these things. I was almost a victim of her foolishness this time.” But he kissed the top of my head and hugged me.
We were a tired bunch. Keisha took the four of us home and went on to wait for José at their apartment. “I guess I can move out of the guest house,” she said. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Mike fried some sausage, fixed scrambled eggs, and we all fell into bed right after we ate. The girls brought pallets and slept on the floor next to our bed. I figured they needed reassurance this night.
Of course, I dreamt about flying to Mexico with John Henry at the controls of a small plane—frightening image! But I’d waken myself and reach out for Mike, and I knew all was well.
****
We gathered for Christmas dinner at Claire’s. She insisted, after the trauma with John Henry. Mike, the girls, and I opened gifts at home around an undecorated tree, and some of the gifts were not wrapped. But it was a joyous Christmas morning. Mike fixed poached eggs on toast and cheese, a concoction he called Huck Finns. He had to explain to the girls about Huck Finn and the raft down the Mississippi River, but they still looked puzzled.
At Claire’s house, everyone wanted to know the blow-by-blow details of our encounter with John Henry, and we obliged. They deserved to know, since they put up with all my antics and cheered me on. José and Keisha came in to loud cheering for their part in the adventure. Mom remained aloof from the telling and tried to frown in disapproval but Otto sat by her and commented frequently, sometimes turning to Mom to say, “You must be so proud of her. She saved my store.”
What could Mom do except smile and agree?
Anthony and Joe muttered about what they’d do if they got their hands on John Henry, and Keisha scoffed at them. “You men need to wait for my sixth sense to tell you what to do.”
José just grinned.
We ate—and ate—turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes, with gravy over all, and green beans and sweet potatoes and cranberry and pecan and chocolate meringue pies until we groaned. Toasts were made to health, wealth, and happiness.
Mike proposed a toast to a life without adventures and even my girls joined in shouting, “Hear, hear!”
I sat in the glow of fellowship and thought surely our lives would be peaceful from now on.
THE END
About Judy Alter
Judy Alter is the author of the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries, Skeleton in a Dead Space, No Neighborhood for Old Women, and the new Trouble in a Big Box. An award-winning novelist, she has written fiction for adults and young adults, primarily about women of the American West, and turned her attention to cozy mysteries in the last few years with admirable success.
Look for future books from Judy Alter
Ghost in a Four-Square
and
Murder at the Blue Plate Café
If you enjoyed Judy Alter’s Trouble in a Big Box,
you might also enjoy these authors
published by Turquoise Morning Press:
Maddie James, author of Murder on the Mountain
Bobbye Terry, author of Buried in Briny Bay
Christina Wolfer, author of The Daughter
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